New Amsterdam: Tess Read Free

featuring on-site preparation. Recently, the cast of The Hunger Games feasted on North Carolina barbecue, fried okra, and strawberry rhubarb pie. And as a result, Sinclair Events finally made it on the first page of the Asheville tourism magazine.
    “What’s on the menu tonight?” Thessaly cracks open a biscuit, places a pat of butter on each half, and then closes it. “And where’s Shelby? I want to spend some time with him before I leave tomorrow.” She delicately peels apart the biscuit and adds a spoonful of creamed honey before taking a bite.
    Standing from the table, Kip answers, “I dunno. I think he stopped by the hospital to have lunch with Dad.” Kip clears his dishes from the table and heads to the large, industrial kitchen.
    The patriarch of the Sinclair family is a renowned cardiologist. Born and raised in Boston, Dr. Bruce Sinclair moved to Atlanta in the late seventies to complete his surgical residency. During his first year of private practice in an affluent suburb, he treated a beautiful Southern debutante with a heart murmur. It’s poetic that Bruce and Rosalyn Sinclair fell in love over a few skipped heart beats.
    Returning from the kitchen with a clipboard, Kip announces, “Fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and banana pudding.”
    Frowning, Thessaly rants, “Good ‘ol fried chicken. Drinks?”
    “Um, local brewery wants a chance. Peach tea, of course. Maybe some Jim Beam Honey?” Kip teases, knowing Thessaly is still churning from the whiskey shots from the Fourth of July.
    Ashen, she replies, “Absolutely not.” Returning a text, she adds, “Hey, do you need me this afternoon? I’m meeting Mary Alice and her fiancé at the Grove Park Inn for a late lunch.”
    “Nah, I have it covered. The staff will be here soon – and you scare people, bossy pants.”
    “What?” Thessaly squeaks.
    “It’s true. You’re on a perpetual sugar-high – darting around and shouting demands like a crazed toddler,” Kip replies.
    Smiling, Thessaly slides the laptop into her bag while staring out the large window. The lavender catches her attention so she suggests, “Tell Beatrice to use the yellow gingham tablecloths. I’ll have Oscar cut the lavender and wildflowers for the vases.”
    Kip nods while checking off items from the clipboard. “Yes ma’am – gingham, lavender, vases, and another round of Jim Beam. Hey, give Mary Alice my love.”
    Patting Kip’s arm and offering a consoling smile, Thessaly patronizes, “Aw, sweetie. You’re like twenty years too young for her. Stop pining for my friend and find someone that appreciates a frat boy.”
    Kip’s cheeks redden. “I’m twenty-seven!” All three kids inherited the Sinclair English skin – freckled, pale, and easily flushed. “And a half.”
    “Exactly. I’ll see you later?” Thessaly calls over her shoulder with a smile.
    “Yeah, yeah. Stop by the warehouse – Junebug came in just to see you.”
    Thessaly pauses by the metal barn door and says, “Kip, in case I haven’t told you, I think you’re doing a fantastic job. Mama can relax knowing you’re out here.”
    “Had to be done, Tess.” Kip places his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants and shrugs his shoulders. “Summer is our busiest season – and Mama needs to take it easy for a few months. I’ll bribe Shelby to help out, too.”
    “And just think of all the weddings with young, drunk, desperate bridesmaids at your disposal!”
    Shaking his head and walking back to the kitchen, Kip mumbles under his breath, “Pest.”
    Laughing, Thessaly slides open the heavy door to be met by the blazing afternoon sun. Adjusting her focus, she takes a moment to marvel at the kaleidoscope of sunshine shimmering along the trees of the adjacent peach orchard. She and her brothers spent lazy afternoons running through that orchard, soaking up the sun, acting out scenes from Sci-fi movies, and daring each other to eat the fallen, bruised peaches. There was that